


Late to the Dance, Late to the Dream

by Smashing_Successor



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, First Dance, Humor, Light-Hearted, Romance, Song Lyrics, Wyverns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6490792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smashing_Successor/pseuds/Smashing_Successor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There have to be at least fifteen better ways to propose to someone but noooooo,” she drew out the word with annoyance and crossed her arms, the very picture of indignation. “Our stupid village is the only stupid place that makes the people put on a stupid song and dance every stupid year! It’s embarrassing!” She glared at her sulking wyvern like it was the source of all her troubles. “Stupid exalt and his stupid traditions.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late to the Dance, Late to the Dream

**Author's Note:**

> The crossover nobody asked for :D

It was the final day of the Mansǫngr Festival in Ylisse. And she was so, so screwed.

“It’s a stupid tradition!” She threw her hands up in frustration as she paced the small hut that she resided in. Next to the hearth, Ratatosk, her sleek, jet black wyvern that shared its master’s temperament, let out an exasperated chuff that sounded like agreement albeit very resigned.

“There have to be at least fifteen better ways to propose to someone but noooooo,” she drew out the word with annoyance and crossed her arms, the very picture of indignation. “Our stupid village is the only stupid place that makes the people put on a stupid song and dance every stupid year! It’s embarrassing!” She crossed her arms and glared at her sulking wyvern like it was the source of all her troubles. “Stupid exalt and his stupid traditions.”

This time, her wyvern simply let out an aggravated growl and rolled its head, a gesture that it had learned from its master. Her father had called it the wyvern equivalent of eye rolling, with the attitude to boot.

Severa gaped. “Rude! And for your information, I am NOT getting cold feet! The Hero of Ylisse does NOT get cold feet. Ever!”

Her wyvern scoffed and pounded its tail on the floor.

“Okay fine! Technically Lucina is the Hero of Ylisse for taking down the fel dragon with her blasted Night Fury. But I get props for shielding her and buying her time.”

Ratatosk scoffed, releasing an irritated plume of smoke from its nostrils in response.

“Oh don’t be so sour,” she chided back, scratching her sulking wyvern in the back of its crest, a sure sweet spot and a few seconds later she was rewarded with a reluctant purr. 

“You get props too for being the best damn wyvern a girl could ask for. Besides, her fashion sense may be utterly abysmal, but Lucina’s not that bad. If I had to, I’d give up my other leg in a heartbeat, knock on wood.” She gave her leg a smart rap and winced. “Ow, okay metal. Right. Still getting used to that.”

Her wyvern was quiet, mulling her words over for a few seconds, tail swishing back and forth. Then it seemed to rouse itself with a snort and stomp its feet in impatience. Severa scowled back.

“I am not stalling!” She protested. Her wyvern snorted. “I am not! I’m just… waiting for the right time! Ever heard of being fashionably late?”

Her wyvern gave her a very deadpan up-down. Which to be fair was justly warranted. It had taken her the better part of the day fretting over what to wear to the Mansǫngr dance. Dress? Nice dress? No dress? In the end, she settled upon her riding gear which was noticeably less nice and hardly the epitome of fashion.

“Well, it’s the outfit I most comfortable in!” she defended before adding in a mumble, “Besides, Noire won’t care what I’m wearing anyway.”

The wyvern huffed once and then yawned.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, pal.”

Ratatosk gave her a dour look. Which was actually kind of impressive for a face that lacked eyebrows.

“Oh, shut it you overgrown lizard. I’m so totally going to go to the dance, even though it’s stupid, you hear? In fact,” Severa made her way over to the door. “I’m going to go now, right this instant!”

Her wyvern perked up and made an encouraging sort of hoot.

Severa paused, hand on the doorknob.

“But do you think I should put something nice in my hair before I go?”

Ratatosk groaned and rolled over on its side.

*** 

By the time she finally left the hut, it was already late into the night, and the festivities seemed to be winding down. Luckily for her, the Mansǫngr Festival lasted three days in the village of Ylisse. Unluckily for her, it was nearing the end of the third day when she finally made her resolution, and now Severa was sweating bullets and completely regretting her decision of being fashionably late.

The festival was practically over, and it seemed that the main group of people in the village had already done their dance and song and were either accepted or heartbroken. Even the village players were packing up their instruments. Not a good sign.

“I hope she didn’t go back home,” she muttered. Ratatosk, who was crouched low to the ground, rumbled back in agreement. Her wyvern had turned surprisingly congenial after they finally left the hut. She suspected it had to do something with her pacing and how irritated it made her wyvern. “Do you see her anywhere buddy?”

Her wyvern growled and nudged her shoulder. Huh. A growl like that meant either that her wyvern was hungry or trouble was near. And since she had fed her wyvern earlier that could only mean…

“Ahoy! Seeeeeeeverararararaaaaaa! There she issssshhh. The woman of the hourrrrr, hic!”

With a groan, she turned around. Owain and Inigo were making her way over, the former being supported by the latter. The swordsman's face was bright red and coupled with the dopey look, well. Only severe brain damage or alcohol could bring that face out.

“Theeeere she ishhh.” Owain hiccupped again and gestured clumsily at her and nearly whacked her wyvern on the snout. Ratatosk growled and retreated behind her. “I tooold you didn’t I. Sheveraaaa’s here and sheeesh the Heeeeeeerooo of Ylissssshe!”

Yeeeep. Definitely the alcohol.

Inigo readjusted the drunken swordsman on his shoulder. “Yes, yes we know, she’s a Hero of Ylisse. Just like you and me, and the rest of the children, remember?” He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry. He’s just upset he couldn’t be here with his fiancée. Poor sap’s been drinking away his sorrows for three days straight.”

“Ah.” Severa ducked another clumsy swipe by the swordsman who looked like he was attempting to give her a hug while still clinging to Inigo. “She’s still sick then?”

“Bedridden but the witch doctor said she’ll be fine with some more rest. Didn’t stop her from insisting that Mr. No-Alcohol-Tolerance over here to go out and enjoy himself. And well… you see how well that turned out.” Inigo sighed, long-suffering. “Honestly, I could have been flirting with the girls right now but nope. Instead, I get saddled with babysitter duty. The injustice.”

“Uh huh.” She peered over his shoulder, having long since exited the conversation herself. “Listen, not that this isn’t a riveting conversation or anything but have you two by any chance seen-?”

“NOIRE!” Owain suddenly shouted, startling the two. He snickered at their reactions, slouching forward with a leer that somehow made him look even more ridiculous in his current inebriated state. “Yesh, Noooooooire. Noire, Noire, Noire-ey, Noire-ey, Noirrrrrrrrre.” He burst into giggles before adding, “She waaaash loooooooking for youse, Severrrrrry.”

“What? Where?!”

“Where we shaaaw her, duh.” Owain giggled again and slouched even further onto Inigo, who groaned in protest at the added weight. “You knoooow, my sword hand thinksh Noire ish reaaaaally, reaaally funny.”

Severa gave Inigo a very frustrated look. “Is he talking about his wyvern or his actual hand?”

“Both, I think?”

“Well, that’s great, Owain, for you and your muscle spasms but where-”

“Remember!” Owain continued as if he hadn’t heard the previous conversation. Most likely he hadn’t. “Reeeemember, when you were in tha-that comaa thingy a-after that fight with the Grima and noooobody, knew wheeen you were gonnnnaaa wakey-wakey and Nooooire shtayed by youse every dayyy?”

“Yeah, so I’m told. But where did you see-!”

“And when youse finalllly woooke up and the first thing sheeee doesh is-is head butt you! While crying! HA!” He broke out into little, stifled snickers, oblivious to the way she colored at the memory. Inigo wisely chose to say silent though it didn’t stop him from grinning in amusement. “And then she-she shays,” Here Owain’s brows furrowed into a look of concentration, and he adopted a horrible impersonation of righteous fury. “‘BLOOD AND THUNDER, THAT’SHHH FOR DOING SHOMETHING SHHHTUPID!’”

“For the love of the gods, yes, I know-!”

“An-and then, Noooire, she, she!” Owain’s drunken little snickers turned into full on laughter, loud enough that people began to stare. “She grabsh Seeevery annnd kisshes her in frooont of everyone and- and then she says, hahha, she shays ‘AND THATSH FOR EVERYTHING ELSE! Hahahahhaha!’”

Severa grabbed Owain by the collar and dragged him close, ignoring the surprised yelp from the swordsman. She spoke softly enough that only he could hear what she said. 

“Because you’re currently drunk off your rocker and utterly unhappy that your fiancée’s not here with you to celebrate, I’m willing to let you off easy this time. But I swear, if you say another word of that embarrassing story, I will gag you, tie you up in a sack and turn your bones into soup stock for my wyvern. Are. We. Clear?”

Owain gulped, sobering up rather quickly considering how fast his flush disappeared. “U-uh, I thought wyverns only eat f-fish.”

“Ratatosk would make an exception for you, isn’t that right buddy?”

Her wyvern made a purring noise. Owain paled even further.

“Right! Clear as crystal and rain and, uh… please don’t turn me into soup stock. I still haven’t named my eighty-sixth tag team special attack yet.”

She impatiently waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, just answer my question. Where did you last see her?”

“Noire? Back at the village fountain half an hour ago. But I don’t know if she’s still-.”

Severa was gone before he even finished his sentence. He rubbed gingerly at his throat and winced. “Yeesh! What’s gotten her so worked up?”

Inigo shrugged, simply grateful that he no longer had to lug around all the dead weight. “Who knows? Love makes us do crazy things after all.”

Owain’s brows furrowed and then cleared as he suddenly understood. “Love?!” He gaped back at the dancer. “No! But-! Love? Severa?!”

“C’mon.” He patted his stunned friend on the shoulder and gestured back in the direction of the fountain. “I have a feeling that what’s about to happen is going to make up for both our nights.”

*** 

She made her way quickly down to the village center, narrowly dodging other festival goers and pedestrians along the way. Ratatosk trailed closely behind her, growling menacingly at anyone who came in her way. Normally, she’d be appalled at how her wyvern was behaving but tonight was a different story.

“I don’t see her.” She looked around and then gestured to her wyvern. “C’mon, let’s go up. Get a better view from the sky.”

“Grrrrng!”

“What do you mean no? We’re wasting time-!”

Her wyvern nudged her impatiently at the waist, and Severa turned, a biting retort on her lips when- oh.

There she was. Sitting by herself near the fountain square dressed in a stunning white gown and looking so beautiful that it actually hurt to breathe for a second. She had a cup in her hand but judging by how full it was, there was little chance of her being too tipsy. Actually, she looked a little forlorn, gazing almost wistfully at the waters beneath her.

Severa gulped once and then leaned down to whisper to her wyvern. “Wish me luck.”

Ratatosk growled once and nuzzled her with its snout. Good boy. With that, she straightened up and walked over to the lone girl.

Noire had been in the middle of taking a drink, but when she saw Severa approaching, her expression lit up.

“Severa!” She set down her cup on the fountain lip and stood up, an elated smile forming on her mouth. “I was wondering where you were. I didn’t think you were coming after I couldn’t find you for the first hour.” She leaned in and her expression clouded slightly when there was no response. “Severa? Are you feeling alright? You look awfully pale. Is it your leg again?”

There was a speech. Correction. There had been a speech that she had practiced at least a million times beforehand. And right now, oh gawds, right now she couldn’t remember any of the words. Noire was here in front of her, looking absolutely stunning in a dress that showed off her slender neck and collarbone and all rational thought was just completely out the window.

“Severa?”

_Say something!_

“Are you by yourself?” she blurted out.

Noire looked taken aback by the sudden question. “Uh, do you mean if anyone asked me to dance? Because, umm, no. Nobody invited me to dance.”

“Good,” she said automatically and then her eyes widened. “I mean, n-no, that’s n-not good! I mean good for me but n-not for you. Not that anyone wouldn’t want to dance with you but-!”

“Severa?” Noire reached out to touch her arm, and she instantly stopped her prattling. “Are you alright? You’re babbling.”

To hell with the speech. It was now or never. She took a deep breath and gently took Noire’s hand in her own. “I think… I think it’d be better if I showed you instead.

And before Noire could say anything further, she got down on one knee.

_Here goes nothing._

**“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas,**

**With ne’er a fear of drowning.”**

When she finally realized what was happening, Noire’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers. The shocked expression hadn’t changed once since she began and Severa had no idea if that was a good sign or…

**“And gladly ride the waves of life,**

**If you will m-marry me.”**

Oh, gods, people were starting to look their way. Everyone else had done their song and dance when the stupid thing had begun. Severa was the only one left. Well forget them! She could do this; she’d faced down a bloody fel dragon for Naga’s sake!

**“N-no scorching sun, nor freezing cold,**

**Will stop me at my journey,”**

She could hear her heart beating in her ears, beating a tattoo in her rib cage, begging to be let out. Her hands trembled. Noire’s part was coming up. _Is she going to continue it? Oh, gods. Please, please, please, oh gods…_

**“If you will promise me your heart.**

**A-and l-lo…lov-…”**

Noire was silent. Everyone was silent, waiting with baited breath for her response.

She paused for a beat. And then another.

The quiet was deafening.

In that moment, Severa felt her heart shatter. Her eyes began to sting, and she shut them as the feelings of embarrassment and shame overwhelmed her. Stupid. Stupid. She was so stupid. Just a stupid girl wishing upon a stupid dream. 

She stood up abruptly and turned around. She needed to escape, to get away from here, from the horrible, suffocating silence that was threatening to choke her. Stupid, so, so…

Someone grabbed her arm. 

She whipped her head around, breath catching in her throat.

Noire was staring at the ground. But her hand was latched onto her arm, shaking harder than a leaf in a storm.

“Noire?” she whispered, not daring to hope in that instant. “Noire what…”

_“A-and l-lo-love me…”_

Severa stopped talking. Noire took a shuddering breath, her head still bent down.

A beat. And then another.

And then she looked up into her eyes.

 _“And love me for eternity,”_

Her heart was beating so hard right now. It actually hurt. 

Oh gods. This was happening.

Noire began to move slightly to the right and belatedly, she remembered to move to the left and mimicked her. Noire continued to sing, softly at first. 

_“My dearest one, my darling dear,_

_Your mighty words astound me.”_

Her voice was louder now, and she was smiling. It was a small smile, but as soon as Severa saw it, she could feel herself floating. Noire’s voice grew louder as she gained confidence.

_“But I’ve no need of mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me.”_

Someone in the audience began clapping a steady beat and somewhere, further along, a flute could be heard coming to life. With a start, she realized she was smiling.

**“But I would bring you rings of gold,**

**I’d even sing you poetry!”**

She couldn’t help it. Noire’s smile was infectious. It was stunning. She was stunning. And she was singing with her! Dancing with her!

**“And I would keep you from all harm,**

**If you would stay beside me!”**

More people began to join in, clapping in time, stomping their feet in time to the rhythm of the song. Noire laughed and she found herself joining in at the sound, dancing with the beat.

_“I have no use for rings of gold,_

_I care not for your poetry,_

_I only want your hand to hold…”_

**“I only want you near me!”**

She was practically shouting to be heard over the din, but Noire didn’t seem to mind. She floated on her feet and jumped nimbly over Severa’s leg, twirling around her in a way that floated the hems of her dress. When she spun around to face Severa again, her face was flushed bright red, her eyes sparkling with an almost mischievous glint that made Severa’s own heart pound even harder.

**_“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold!_ **

**_For the dancing and the dreaming!_ **

**_Through all life’s sorrows and delights,_ **

**_I’ll keep your love inside me!”_ **

People were cheering. Her own heart was soaring higher and higher, like a wyvern taking flight into the horizon. There was so much noise, so much feeling in the air that she was drowning in it. Noire was so close to her. Any closer and Severa felt like she would burst into flames.

**_“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas,_ **

**_With ne’er a fear of drowning,_ **

**_And gladly ride the waves of life,_ **

**_If you will marry me!”_ **

With a final spin, the two of them turned and faced each other, both slightly panting and flushed. Behind her, she could hear the townsfolk erupt into elated cheers that were loud enough to shake the ground. But all Severa could focus on was Noire’s hand and how warm it was and how perfectly it fit in hers.

“So,” she panted, still out of breath, adrenaline and elation still pumping through her veins in dizzying amounts. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

Noire blushed further but smiled shyly back at her and thank the gods Severa was holding on to her because her knees were threatening to collapse. Without saying anything, she leaned forward (and for once, Severa was never more appreciative of wearing her riding gear because the boots added, at least, a solid inch to her height) and kissed her softly on the lips.

The crowd erupted into another frenzied cheer, with a few good natured wolf whistles thrown in as well. When the two finally separated, Severa finally understood what it meant to see stars because it was a ridiculous expression but damned if she wasn’t seeing them now.

“Yeah, okay, I’m taking that as a yes,” she said, a bit dazed.

Noire laughed, and it was such a free spirited sound that Severa just had to grin back. “I was wondering when you were going finally ask,” she whispered back, only loud enough for Severa to hear. 

“Haven’t you heard? It’s called being fashionably late.”

“Oh really? That’s what it was?”

“That’s what I’m calling it.”

Something nudged her in the back of the leg. Her wyvern gave her a patently disbelieving look and chuffed. Noire’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Seems like somebody disagrees.”

“Traitor,” she muttered back, but without any heat. She would have said more, but Noire leaned forward to capture her lips again and there went out all her thoughts out the window. Again.

 _Okay, fine,_ she thought reluctantly once they broke apart. With a smile, Noire offered out her hand, and she took it with a silly, smile of her own that had her wyvern chortling in amusement. 

_Maybe it’s not such a stupid tradition after all._


End file.
